


Once Upon a Darkmoon Blade: The First Day

by OctoSlender



Series: Once Upon a Darkmoon Blade [1]
Category: Dark Souls III
Genre: Comedy, Diary/Journal, Parody, Satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 12:23:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11380110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctoSlender/pseuds/OctoSlender
Summary: The Ashen One abandons his journey after meeting Company Captain Yorshka. He decides to dedicate his entire life to serving the Darkmoon Covenant. However, after a string of failures, he finds out that Company Captain Yorshka is not exactly the person he thought she was.





	Once Upon a Darkmoon Blade: The First Day

_The First Day_

I have decided to pen down my adventures.

Had I a proper sense of time, these records would have been archived by date and day. Alas, time is convoluted and ever-shifting across these lands. The proof is there through the orange, sometimes white, messages sprawled across the cobblestones and dirt roads.

I would see their messages wherever I went.

Some served as warnings, some an expression of their despair, and some even as mere jest.

_‘Try holding with both hands,’_ comes to mind upon stumbling across the chambers of a beautiful abomination in the Cathedral of the Deep.

They must be Unkindled from another time and space.

I often wonder what their journeys are like; what decisions they have made different from my own. However, it is strange that all of the Unkindled possess the knowledge to read and to write. Perhaps it is a natural trait shared by us all.

My gratitude will forever belong to whoever’s message led me to the captain I now serve.

Perched high atop the lonely tower of her church, Company Captain Yorshka sits on her throne, an aging wooden chair. Each day spent gazing over Anor Londo, Irithyll, and the Boreal Valley. A beautiful, endless night with castles and cathedrals so picturesque it would leave the dwellers in Lothric breathless.

I remember the first time I met her.

The path was treacherous, reaching her involved crossing a bridge of glass so clear one couldn’t possibly see it. However, I did so with success. I never thought my prism stones would ever prove themselves useful.

My arrival alarmed her at first. However, she could not help but betray her curiosity.

“Name thyself, stranger. I am Yorshka, Captain of the Darkmoon Knights. What beckoned thee to such a place?” She asked of me.

It was a stroke of luck or fate that I met with Sirris prior.

The Knight of the Sunless Realm taught me how to pledge my loyalty. How I was to kneel and draw my arm across my chest as though it was a shield.

Thus, when Yorshka introduced herself, I pledged my allegiance to her. I kneeled and presented myself as a knight who would serve the Darkmoon.

Her words laced with surprise and wonder still rings in my ear to this day.

“Thou think’st to—” a breath escaped her as she smiled, her features softened— “very well.”

I lowered my gaze as she recited the concord that would bind us; the oath I came to swear. Now and forever.

 

“ _Captain to this knightless company, I remain_

_I will grant thee purpose._

_Thou’st journeyed far; her my voice._

_If thou shalt swear by the Covenant, to become_

_A shadow of Father Gwyn and Sister Gwynevere,_

_A blade that shall hunt the foes of our lords;_

_Then I place thee under the aegis, and the power, of the Darkmoon._

_Thou’rt now a Blade of the Darkmoon._

_The only knight of our company._

_Swear this oath, and face thy solemn duty.”_

 

Whether it has been weeks or months, or even yesterday, I relinquished my duties as an Unkindled.

I will bear the duty of linking the flame no longer.

Though the maiden of gains was sincere, I hold no interest in undoing the mess of kings and lords before my time.

I shall never link the flame.

Never.

With my great hammer, I will serve my captain. Though the endeavour may be difficult and I may feel the cold hand of death over and over again, my will shan’t falter.

 

 

...

 

_Day #444_

There was something in the way she looked at me.

Her eyes betrayed a cold boredom as she toyed with my latest trophy, an ear of a sorcerer faithful to Aldritch. The proof of a concord kept. A sigh escaped her.

It hurts.

“My Darkmoon Knight,” she called, “thy execution of thy duties has been rather… disappointing.”

I do not blame her. After all this time, I have slain only three foes. Even then, their demise was not by my hand.

“Perhaps thou should consider returning to thine true purpose and link the flame.” She tossed the ear over the tower’s railings.

I cry every time.


End file.
